His Most Dangerous Opponent
by Owlkin
Summary: He has faced many things in his lifetime: the travesties of war, dangerous magic, and scheming court politics. But he will face that which he is untrained for . . . little girls. Drent & Royal Princess Fic. Follow on to "Moments of Levity" but can be read as a standalone.


**A one shot piece of fluff that follows the ending of _Moments of Levity_, it makes much more sense if you read that. Or at least the last few chapters. Be warned it was a Zachary x Karigan fic, back when I still had hope. This is really just between Drent and how he reacts to little children.**

**Aereal has written a similar fic with Fastion finding his own inner child, I highly recommend it.**

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Drent was less than pleased to be summoned to that area of the castle that he most studiously avoided.

The nursery.

A place of uncertainty, of tears, sticky fingers, and manipulative small minds.

Clenching his jaw, he nearly crumpled the missive that the Green Foot had timidly offered him.

"The King, and her Royal Highness Princess Karin, request the pleasure of Swordmaster Drent's company at precisely noon, in the royal apartments."

A tiny almost illiterate scrawl at the bottom signaled that the Princess had put her own mark next to the King's signature. The letters were barely recognizable but at four years old, he groused that it would be seen as an accomplishment. Better a schoolroom than his training ring, where she most assuredly would cause trouble.

After the last incident, where HER parents had unceremoniously dropped her off and ran off to pursue their own brand of trouble, he was more than a little scarred at the total mayhem that Her Royal Highness had created.

More than one sparring partner had stopped to stare adoringly at the small princess wielding a toy sword, resulting in more than one training injury and a small bawling female who saw her large playmates get injured. It was a little known secret that tears had the power to undo his resolve. Anger, fury, and vicious unadulterated hate he could handle in an opponent, but a hefty dose of feelings were just below the belt.

The fact that she had stared at him accusingly with those large blue eyes, reminiscent of her mother, as if it were somehow _his_ fault that it had all happened. He had taken one look and promptly picked her up, depositing her in the hands of her favorite person outside of her parents and sisters, Willis.

And now, only a few months later, he suspected he was to be a guest to a tea party or some such nonsense. Taking each stair forcefully with a stomp, he passed multiple individuals but did not register their expressions of wariness as he stormed ahead.

The indignities he suffered for the crown . . .

He hoped that her Royal Highness remembered this when it came time for retirement. He fancied a seaside cottage on Black Island.

A _nice_ one.

Upon standing in front of the first antechamber that led into a formal sitting room, and corridor of sorts, into the royal family's living area, he nodded brusquely to the Weapons posted at the door and waited as one ducked inside and formally announced his arrival.

Drent clenched his jaw and steeled himself, swerving around the open door, fully prepared to do battle . . . and stared into two sets of amber colored eyes that were studying him curiously.

Their mother sat on the floor upon a quilt with the babies, trying to engage them with a toy horse, but their attention was completely diverted to the fascinating man at the door.

The twins were something altogether. Quiet, solemn, and entirely too intelligent for their age, they took in their surroundings with a calculating gleam in their beady little eyes.

Did no one think of the consequences of allowing that boy and girl to procreate?

Drent stared back, intent on winning this battle of wills, and practically ignored the query of his Queen, "I suspect you are here to see Zachary and Karin?"

One of the girls, Isen he mused, gave him a shy little smile and his eyes narrowed.

"Drent?"

His head snapped up and he flushed ever so slightly to see the Queen give him a knowing look. Straightening his tunic, he replied, "Aye, I was asked to be here by noon."

Karigan nodded and rose carefully while picking up little Brienne, "Ah, well I suppose us ladies are due a visit down to the stables."

Drent balked, "The stables?"

Her eyebrow rose, "Aye, the stables. I want them to start getting comfortable around a horse. No child of mine will be a poor rider."

He gruffly acquiesced to that logic and watched the Queen depart with Brienne in her arms, and a Weapon trailing behind her with Isen. For a woman who now held the highest rank in the land, she seemed to hold an aversion to using the staff around her to assist her with her children. That is to say, she accepted help, but unlike some noblewomen, she did not leave their care entirely to caregivers. More often than not, it was a Weapon who assisted her, and not one of the nursemaids.

Isen peeked over the shoulder of her Weapon and gave him a brilliant smile as they departed, prompting an unwilling twist of his lips as she gave a giggle and set off her twin, their small noises of happiness disappearing down the hall.

He caught one of the younger initiates staring at him with disturbed surprise and he stiffened, sending a glare at the young man who quickly diverted his eyes.

It was not but a few moments later that the King arrived with Karin on his back, and a formal nod as well as he could manage for Drent. The sword master locked eyes with the eldest Princess and bowed curtly to the royal heir. She slid from her father's back gently and ran up happily to him with a piece of paper clutched in her tiny fist. "Master Dwent! I made you dis in Papa's study," she beamed, holding up the paper eagerly.

Startled, he took the paper and inspected it. There was certainly a lot of color and his eyes took a moment to adjust to the scene the Princess had depicted in pastels, which currently coated her hands, her little tunic and leggings, and her chubby little cheeks.

A circle was drawn haphazardly around a cluster of stick like people, each wielding a sword but some sporting bandages or a bright red splotch of what he supposed to be blood.

She waited patiently and rocked back on her eyes, eager for his input. He reached behind to rub the back of his neck with one hand, oddly touched that she thought to make something for him and utterly at a loss on how to comment on her vivid artwork.

Coughing, he tilted his head to the side and nodded solemnly, "Very morbid, milady, but creative."

Karin grinned and seemed to bounce in place, to which her father knelt and placed a steadying hand on her shoulder with barely suppressed laughter.

"Both the Queen and I decided that perhaps it had been too early to introduce her to the training ring, but after careful consideration, we believe that she understands better the gravity of learning such a skill."

Drent raised an eyebrow, "Is that so, boy?"

Zachary wrinkled his nose, but continued, "She has talked of nothing else it seems these past few weeks other than returning to visit her favorite sword master."

Drent scoffed but said nothing, turning a bit pink.

"And we would like to respectfully ask to return her to her training," Zachary said smugly, watching the other man's stony façade crumble as Karin's eyes looked at him hopefully.

How could he refuse a young soul eager to learn the ways of the sword?

He sighed and nodded, keeping his eyes to the ceiling, therefore almost missing the small blur that tackled his legs and nearly upset his balance.

"Thankyouthankyouthankyou!"

The King's voice was wry and held no real chastisement, "Karin, love, remember we ask first before we hug?"

"Leave her, she's all right," Drent said gruffly, awkwardly patting her on the head.

She released him after a moment and raced to the door, "We can go now?"

"He may have other things to do, you need to ask first," Zachary reminded her gently.

"Oh," she deflated a bit, "Master Dwent, when can we go?"

Drent carefully rolled his gift up and tucked it into his tunic, "Might as well be now, while we have a few hours of daylight left. You need her before dinner?"

Zachary stood from where he had been crouched, "I trust you'll return her properly drained of energy."

Drent guffawed, "Aye, she might change her mind tomorrow."

"Will not," the Princess said indignantly from where she had been poised at the door.

The sword master gestured towards the door, "Well, let's get going then."

Her little feet, clad in miniature little boots, dashed around the corner as she squealed in glee.

Zachary called after them, "Be nice to each other, you two, no pranks today."

Drent turned around once to scowl at the King, but Zachary pointed at the disappearing form of the Princess, "I was actually talking to her."

Drent paled and hurried after the laughing Princess, not caring at that point if others saw him chasing a little girl through the castle.

* * *

Just fluff. If Zachary/Karigan hurts, pretend it's Estora. Or a lady of your choosing.


End file.
